Anamaria: A Pirate's Tale
by The Lady Pyrate
Summary: About the life of Anamaria, spanning from her birth and childhood to her experiences after the first movie. Where did she come from? What happened to her after the movie? Incorporates a bit from the film but is mostly just about an awesome female pirate!


**Anamaria: A Pirate's Tale**

_The wind rattles the thin materials of the slave hut, the world's attempt to muffle the painful screams of childbirth. The island was making quite a racket for this baby. It had been storming for hours, fierce gales that swept through the tropical trees and rain that pounded the sand and the earth, flowing to finally mingle with the Caribbean Sea. The poorly insulated hut was beginning to take on water itself, the older slave's ankles covered in murky brown liquid as she chanted and occasionally checked between Nayla's legs. _This child was coming slowly_, the midwife thought to herself. _

"_She is reluctant to come into the world," she told the mother. _

"_No," the mother replied. "She is strong. She wants to decide when to be here."_

_The midwife smiled; it was just like Nayla to attribute this to her baby. This was to be her first, and every slave on the plantation was wondering about the identity of the father. Some speculated it was Mubaadar, the largest male and a man known to feel fondly about Nayla. Still, the mother would not give away her secret. _

_Her screams echoed throughout the cabin, rivaling both the wind and the rain. Now they were joined by another cry, though, much quieter but just as fierce. Nayla's face was exultant as she listened to the first protests of her tiny daughter._

"_Anamaria," she breathed quietly, and laid back triumphantly._

* * *

"Anton!" the captain shouted, and the young rigger came running across the deck of the ship, eager to help in any way possible. "Get yourself below deck, boy! Trouble's a brewin' and I can't have ye getting' hurt."

"But sir!" exclaimed the high-pitched voice.

"No buts, lad. Stay down there until I come for ye, aye?" Thomas Mann, captain of _The Victoria, _had a soft spot for the boy and was unwilling to allow any harm to come to him. The child had joined the crew almost two months ago, and the captain still wouldn't let him anywhere near battle. Mann was among the more respectable pirates, one who had a reputation for fairness to his crew but was often looked down upon by others for his soft spot for women and children. Where most pirates would plunder with no concern about the helpless they were wounding and oftentimes even killing, Mann gave strict orders that no innocents were to be hurt in any raid. Though it meant his crew had to take extreme care, he was a great leader and they both respected and loved him.

Little Anton, though, was unhappy with the situation. Stuck below deck in the brig, simply listening to the battle that was being waged above, the boy brooded and paced, furiously wanting to join the action. His short dark hair framed his delicate features, and his small stature made him wonder if the captain was going easy on him because he was little or because he guessed at the truth behind his identity.

_There's no way he could know, _thought Anamaria. _I look just like a boy. No one knows_, she assured herself as she settled down to wait the battle out. She had been masquerading as a young boy named Anton in order to secure herself a spot among a pirate crew, and she had selected Captain Mann's ship because of his reputation. Worried that she would be sent away if she were found out, or even killed, she took a chance on sailing with a more charitable captain. Though her adventurous side craved to be on deck, Anamaria was a smart girl. She had been practicing with the small pistol the captain had given her, but she knew she was no match for some of the more experienced fighters.

The crew had taken such a liking to her, and she knew that their teasing about her size was just in fun. Still, she worried about the day that her identity might be revealed. She was only thirteen years old and the cutting of her hair (uneven as it might be) made her look just like the other lads on the ship. Her skin might be darker than theirs, but no one had questioned who she was or where she came from. The motley crew that made up a pirate ship provided the perfect place for a runaway slave to hide.

* * *

_Bringing a child into the world is never an easy business, but slave mothers have a harder time knowing that their beloved newborns will someday be treated like animals and worked almost to death. Anamaria's fate would be no different, regardless of the lightness in her skin tone that revealed to anyone looking at the rambunctious toddler the secret of her parentage. Nursed by her mother side-by-side with the white children of the plantation owner's wife, Anamaria wasn't to feel the squeeze of slavery's crushing vise until she grew older. She played with the other children and enjoyed a few brief years of carefree existence before she was doomed to the curse of all slave children._

_First responsible only for simple tasks around the sugar plantation, such as carrying the cane to the nearby mill, Anamaria treated her servitude as a game. She often got into trouble, and while it was hard to punish a child that was so courageous, that never stopped anyone. Anamaria was regularly spending time alone, forbidden to see her companions that made life bearable for her, and once she was forced to sit in the stocks for most of the day. These punishments never deterred Anamaria from anything, though, and she took them as stoically as an adult._

_As the years passed, Anamaria grew from a rowdy child into an equally troublesome teenager. It was common knowledge that her mixed ancestry caused her to be treated a little differently than the rest of the slaves, and whispers were that Anamaria's father was the plantation owner himself. Nayla was constantly defending her precious daughter and never spoke as to Anamaria's true parentage, hoping that the rumors would eventually cease and Anamaria wouldn't be such a source of attention. Nayla worried that this notice would someday bring negativity, and try as she might to prevent that from happening, her worst fears would come true. There was only so much a mother can do, especially a slave woman who barely even got to see her offspring, and Anamaria was soon plagued with problems that even the full love of the woman who birthed her could not fix._

_Although Anamaria had been loosely protected by the plantation owner, his wife had eyes and rumors of this mixed slave reached her ears. She grew jealous of Nayla and confronted her husband about it. He had no choice but to sell Nayla and Anamaria to a plantation across the island. There, they were not given the same treatment as at their old home, and Anamaria's fair skin was noticed immediately. It was rumored that their new owner was interested in this light-skinned slave, and when he requested to have Anamaria serve in the house, Nayla began to worry. She was not about to let her daughter face the horrors of what slave masters often did to their female slaves, the horrors she herself had faced. One night after an especially long day of work, she gave Anamaria her meager savings and helped to cut off her beautiful dark hair. She then told the girl how to get to the shipyard and sent her on her way, pain in both their eyes as Anamaria closed the flap to the hut and disappeared into the night._

* * *

Plunging through the bushes, tears streaming down her face, Anamaria wondered if she would ever see Mama again. After being told what working in the house might bring, she agreed that she had no choice but to leave the plantation, and her mother had given her a few coins that she had been secretly saving for a day like this. Having traveled as far as she could by the light of the moon, Anamaria had stopped to rest in a shady grove near the port closest to the plantation. Now, with the rising sun, she was sure that the overseer had been alerted to her absence; she could almost imagine the shouts of the men in the distance, furious at her disappearance. Anamaria was terrified and unsure of what she would do once she reached a ship. Disguised as a boy, the plan was that she would buy safe passage to another island.

She found herself instead in a very different situation. Stopping to ask a few locals about the ships that were docked, she soon discovered that they were all pirate ships. She had heard terrible stories about pirates, and she thought she might just as well return to the plantation and the vicious whipping that would await her there. It was then that someone mentioned Thomas Mann, the captain of the _The Victoria_. It was the first ship to arrive in port that day, and the captain was rumored to be a kindhearted man. Anamaria approached the ship cautiously but quickly, wanting to be hidden in case the men from the plantation would come looking for her at the docks. When she finally got to speak to the captain, she discovered that he was unwilling to take on any passengers, but he offered Anamaria a job as a rigger on his ship. Not realizing that she wasn't what she appeared to be, Thomas Mann brought Anamaria, now Anton, onto _The Victoria _and the crew warmed to the young rascal immediately. At the age of thirteen, Anamaria had no trouble hiding her identity and loved the freedom the open seas presented her with. It was quite a contrast to her slave life, and she could often be found simply gazing off into the horizon, savoring the sight of the open water and glancing back at the land disappearing behind her.

Life on a ship may have been different than the constraints of slave life, but the labor was similar and Anamaria was prepared. She worked just as hard as the men aboard, and no one had any reason to suspect her of anything. Everything was going perfectly and Anamaria was now sixteen. She took great care in disguising her form and was still playing the role of Anton, the late-developing, beloved lad of all the crew.

It was during a battle that she was finally found out. Captain Mann had given up trying to protect Anton from the violent aspect of piracy, and Anamaria could shoot just as well as any of the men aboard. She had some talent with a sword, too, and often spent the evenings sparring with the other pirates and practicing her skills. During a fight with a Spanish ship, Anamaria was loading her pistol when one of the navy sailors sliced through her shirt. Stubbs, a crew member who had received his name for the arm he had lost as a young man, was particularly fond of Anton and immediately rushed to the boy's aid.

"Lad!" he cried as he cut down the enemy with a sword in his one hand, making his way across the deck. "Are ye alright, boy?" Anamaria squirmed on the deck in discomfort, unable to move for the battle that was still raging around her, even though the Spanish were showing signs of defeat.

"I'm fine," she called to him, hoping that he would stop before he reached her. The wound itself was not severe, but it revealed her true identity, and the thought that she was to be abandoned by the men she considered family stung much worse than the cut that was staining the deck red beneath her as she lay panicking. Stubbs continued until he saw what she was dreading, and he stopped dead in his tracks. After a moment, he slowly inched his way over to her.

"I'm so sorry, Stubbs," she whispered.

"It's alright… lass. Can ye move at all?" Stubbs was shocked to learn that Anton was actually Anamaria, but she had proved herself time and time again as a lad and he wouldn't have cared if she was a monkey. The lass had courage to do what she did, and he blushed with pride to think of how strong she really was.

With his good arm, he supported Anamaria and helped her into the captain's cabin, pausing only to be sure she was safe before he headed back into the fighting. Several minutes later, the battle was won and the pirates were bringing aboard their hard-earned plunder. Their immediate focus was restricted to the profits of their labor, but word travels fast on a boat and within the hour everyone knew what Anamaria had worked for three years to hide.

Perched nervously on the captain's cot, she thought about what was surely to become her fate. She knew women were not allowed to join the crew, and though Captain Mann might have a soft spot for them on land, his feelings at sea were surely different. The pain in her side barely registered as Anamaria worried about the future. Her only home was _The Victoria_, and she didn't even know if her mother was still alive. It had been years since Anamaria had been on the island. Where would she live? For that matter, would the captain even let her live?

The door burst open and Captain Mann strolled in, slamming it behind him. The murmurs of the crew could be heard through the thick wood, and Anamaria shook with terror as she waited for him to speak. He walked over to his small writing desk, grabbed the chair, and moved it over to his modest berth. Anamaria pulled the blanket up to her chin and looked defiantly into his blue eyes. They stared at one another in silence for several moments before the captain began to chuckle.

"Good for you, lass. Ye really fooled us," he commented, with the usual twinkle in his eye. Anamaria wasn't sure she heard him correctly.

"Excuse me, sir?" She waited for the fury that she was so sure would come, but it didn't.

"Three years," he said, shaking his head slowly and continuing to chuckle. His laughter deepened and morphed into the hearty guffawing so often heard aboard the rowdy ship. It was contagious, and Anamaria joined in softly. "Well, lass. _The Victoria _will always have a place for ye, boy or not. Ye've a good mind about ye and ye can fight bonnier than most of me men. I'd be sore mistaken if I sent ye away."

Anamaria's joy was unmistakable. She leapt up to hug him about the neck then winced at the pain. He helped her back onto the cot.

Gruffly, he said, "Enough of that, girl. Ye'll hurt yerself. Rest up now and I'll tell the boys yer stayin', aye?" The smile on her face was answer enough for him, and he left the cabin. Anamaria fell asleep to the cheers and laughter of the men she considered to be her only family now…

* * *

Anamaria spent the next few years sailing with Captain Mann, moving up from her initial spot as a rigger to the honored position of sailing master. She was a strong leader and the men respected her, regardless of her sex. On some ships she might have been cast out immediately, but _The Victoria _gave her a home of her own. The business was profitable as well, and Anamaria eventually had enough saved to buy her own small boat. She named it _The Jolly Mon_, a nod to her Caribbean upbringing, and finally said goodbye to the ship she had lived on for a third of her life. She left _The Victoria _with the assurance that should she ever want to return, there would always be a place for her with the crew.

Anamaria was twenty two years old now, and she had blossomed into quite a beauty. She was not a typical woman by any means, preferring the apparel of a pirate to the corsets and dresses other ladies at the port of Tortuga wore. She took her boat out often, lazily sailing around the island, and at night she occasionally donned women's garments and strolled around the city. It was on one of these excursions that she first met the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

Sitting at her favorite pub, Anamaria sipped her drink and watched the prostitutes consort amongst the men in an attempt to find their night's employment. Anamaria was thankful that she never had to resort to that occupation, though she had a few friends who didn't mind the work. The position as a lady of the night would have never suited a woman like Anamaria, though, and even after just a few months she was considering taking Captain Mann up on his offer. She loved _The Jolly Mon_, but there was something different about being on a vessel that could cut through a storm and was large enough to hold eighty men. She could only fit one other person on her boat, but it was still hers and the only thing she had ever worked to buy.

Anamaria was interrupted from her reverie by a man plopping down on the stool next to her.

"Good evenin', lass," he drawled in a heavy accent. Uninterested, Anamaria sniffed and turned the other way. Just as quickly, he moved to the stool on her other side.

"Yer beautiful, ye know that?" He smiled at her as he twirled a piece of his hair in his dirty fingers. Although Anamaria didn't want to admit it to herself, it felt good to be complimented. The men on _The Victoria _had never seen her as a woman, and although she wasn't sure she wanted to be viewed as a piece of flesh, she appreciated the praise.

"Thank ye, sir, but I'm not interested," she told him, glancing at the door.

"Interested in what?" he asked, batting his long eyelashes with a look of innocence. She laughed at his attempt to disguise his interest in her and the sound of her amusement filled the corner of the bar. He smiled, revealing several gold teeth. She knew him to be a pirate by his swagger and his demeanor, but she was curious as to who he was. He definitely wasn't one of the men from _The Victoria, _and she knew many of the pirates who came through Tortuga.

"What's your name?" she asked him, looking into his eyes to see if he was telling the truth. Anamaria could strangely sense a lie, and when he answered her she knew he was honest.

"Jack," he said, and she relaxed. They talked pleasantly for a few minutes more about her life, and she told him about her boat and her living situation on the island. He listened politely and smiled warmly at her, and though she was surprisingly enjoying his company, it was getting late. She finally excused herself to return to the small room she rented from Mrs. Burroughs.

"I'll walk ye home," he said, and she accepted the offer. She may have been carrying a loaded pistol strapped to her thigh, but that didn't mean a man couldn't mistake her for someone else and attempt to take advantage of her. Anamaria could certainly defend herself, but she recognized one weakness of her sex: it was difficult to move in a corset, let alone fight. In her regular clothing, she could easily take on a man twice her size, but in this outfit, she was relatively powerless.

When they arrived at Mrs. Burroughs's house, Anamaria turned to say goodnight to Jack when suddenly he kissed her. Shocked, she was amazed to find that she enjoyed it, and she glanced at the house. There wasn't a single candle lit, and, taking a chance, she invited the pirate up.

* * *

**May 3****rd ****– May 15****th**

When I woke that fine morning, I had a feeling that there was something about the day that I would remember forever. I felt it in the air. Something important was happening, and as much as I never put much stock in old slave premonitions, I could feel it in my bones. I rolled over and noticed that Jack was gone. From what I had heard from the others, that wasn't anything to be alarmed at. I wasn't sure why I could be feeling this way then. On my way to the docks, I stopped at the bar, thinking to inquire as to the full identity of the man I had gotten to know so well the night before. I asked the owner if he knew who I had been speaking with and he began to chuckle.

"Ye don't know?" he asked me, raising one eyebrow.

"If I knew, would I be askin'?" I replied, impatiently awaiting the answer.

"That was Cap'n Jack Sparrow, lass," he said, and turned back to his work, disinterested or perhaps immune to the look of horror that must have flashed upon my face.

Jack Sparrow! The man was infamous in these parts for being one of the least trustworthy pirates on the sea. Last I heard, he had been marooned by his crew and left to die. How could he have gotten to Tortuga, and what could he possibly be looking for?

It hit me like a knife and I ran to the dock to check on my ship, fearing the worst. Damn that Jack Sparrow! My boat was missing and I knew he must have taken it. I should never have spent a moment's time with him at the bar, but I must admit that the man was charming. Rage and regret filled me simultaneously, mixing to create a storm of emotion. In the eye of it, I could see clearly.

Jack may have left with my boat, but he would be back. And when he was, he would pay.

I headed back to the house and went about my business. I frequented the bars in the evenings, hoping to hear word of Jack's whereabouts, and finally I got wind of some news about him. He was gathering a crew, and I decided it was the perfect time to confront him about my boat. I tucked my hair into a hat, signed up with the men at the pub, and followed them to the docks. Jack stood there and I had to control my temper until it was my turn for an introduction. Like Jack and I need any introduction, really. He knew me like no one else ever had, and I clenched my fists to remember how I'd been used. I stifled my rage as he made his way down the line, talking to the crew, but finally I couldn't resist any longer.

"And what's the benefit for us?" I called out, raising my head so that Jack was looking into my eyes. I relished the look on his face: surprise and a little fear mixed together.

"Anamaria," was all he could say, and my name on his lips was enough to make me hit him.

The attractive man with him chimed in, "I suppose you didn't deserve that one either?" and looked doubtfully at Jack. What else had Mister Sparrow been up to?

"No, that one I deserved," Jack admitted, and I was relieved to hear it. That didn't make me any less angry, though, as I thought of the small vessel I worked so hard to buy.

"You stole my boat!" I couldn't resist yelling at him, my fury and worry of the past weeks reaching the boiling point and spilling over. I slapped his face again for good measure.

"Borrowed… borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back," Jack said. I looked around me and saw no ship. I knew deep down that she was lost forever.

"But you didn't!" I yelled. I could not pretend that it didn't hurt me to wake up and find that someone I trusted had betrayed me. Jack was as slick as ever, though.

"You'll get another one," he promised, and while I didn't believe him, I played along.

"I will," I said, and the new man chimed in again.

"A better one," he said, and Jack reiterated the statement. The man continued and said, "That one." Jack immediately looked confused, and I was as well. Which ship was I being given?

"What one?" Jack said what I was thinking, and the man turned to look at the massive, shining vessel that was floating beside us. He must have been joking.

"That one? Aye, that one. What say you to that?" Jack was asking me this seriously, and before he had a chance to take it back I shouted, "aye!" and we were done with that. I was skeptical to be sure, but the potential of commanding such a phenomenal ship was enticing. Besides, I was yearning to be back at sea and I was ready to sail again. Jack's second in command didn't seem to want me, though. I overheard him talking to Jack.

"…frightful bad luck to have a woman aboard," he was saying as he glanced back at me. I did my best to look intimidating but I was glowing with pride at Jack's response:

"It would be far worse not to have her."

With a glance back at _The Interceptor, _the vessel that I had been promised, I smiled at the prospective future. She'd definitely be an upgrade from _The Jolly Mon, _that's for sure. The men began shouting orders and I stood up tall, ready to put out to sea and be rid of the land that had always constricted me.

**June 25****th**

The insanity of these past few weeks has been too much to bear. I won't even begin to describe what we have seen and dealt with because it is far too unbelievable. It seems like I have been living in a dream world. What has struck me the most, though, is Miss Elizabeth Swann. When I first met her, I couldn't believe she would ever be an asset to us, but she has proved herself in many ways. I may have been hostile to her originally, but I think I am just jealous of the life she is leading. She has everything: money, comfort, two men who love her, and yet she is at sea fighting. I see that is because of Will and her determination to save the man she cares so much about. I can't help but feel badly for Commodore Norrington, but I don't believe anything can separate a woman from what she truly loves. Elizabeth is right to follow her heart, but it is not her relationship with Will that makes my own heart ache. It is instead the presence of her father that makes me miss my mother. I think about her every day. It has been almost ten years since we have seen each other, and I constantly imagine whether or not she is still alive. I wonder if she still remembers me or if she has other children now.

The more that I think about it, the more I know I have to go back. I have decided that Jack should stay as the captain of _The Black Pearl_, and I am content to serve as crew until I can get safe passage back to Barbados. I must try to look for my mother. After a few more raids, I believe that I will have enough money to perhaps buy her freedom, and that thought gives me hope. What it would be like to be with her again…

* * *

Anamaria waves goodbye to Jack and Mr. Gibbs and stands on the dock as the ship slowly fades, getting smaller and smaller until it seems she could hold it in her hand. She turns around to face the island; it's the first time she's been home, and everything looks the same as when she left. She heads into town to make a few inquiries about the plantation and her mother. As she walks from establishment to establishment, she notices the sideways glances she seems to be receiving. Attributing them to her pirate garb, she holds her head up and keeps walking. When she arrives at the plantation, though, Anamaria belatedly realizes that while her past may not matter at sea, on this island it very clearly matters who (and what) she was.

She first sees her mother from a distance, and Nayla cannot believe her eyes.

"Anamaria?" she whispers, quietly at first but then louder, shouting her daughter's name repeatedly, attracting the overseer's attention.

"So your daughter's back, eh? The master will be pleased to hear that," he says, cruelly kicking her in the side for deviating from her work. Nayla focuses on the ground beneath her and continues to cut the cane, afraid for her daughter's safety. When she finally dares to look back, she sees Anamaria kicking and screaming as she is clamped into irons.

"No!" Nayla screams. "No," but it is too late, they've identified her as a suspected runaway, and she will be taken to the local prison to await sentencing. Governor Atkins is in charge on Barbados and has been recently criticized for deviating from his orders and is now paying special attention to all property of the Crown. This awards him some power regarding slave relations, and Nayla praises the controlling man. If the master had his way, Anamaria would be killed outright with no investigation whatsoever. She prays that in the governor's hands, her daughter will not face the punishment that is so often inflicted: death.

Anamaria is jailed on suspicion of being a runaway slave, and the solitude of the cell is mind-numbing. With only rats and mice as her companions, the time spent alone, wondering about the future, is excruciating. Her only solace is a British officer, John Berne, who from time to time stops to talk to her and bring her food. He is young and innocent, and though Anamaria is only a year or two older than he is, she feels the weight of her life experiences.

While they have slipped into a routine over the past few weeks, his demeanor is different one day. He kneels outside the cell and clasps Anamaria's hand through the bars. Confused, she wonders what has made him so serious, and his proposition causes her to stare blankly for a moment.

"Anamaria, I love you," he begins tentatively, discouraged by her penetrating gaze. "I, I want to help you get out of here. They're planning to kill you and I can't sit by and let them. We can run away together!" Anamaria considers the situation she has found herself in, constraint after years of pure freedom. She feels she should have never come home, but she still hasn't done what she set out to do.

"And my mother?" she asks in her accented English. "What about my mother?"

"I have some money saved," he begins. "I could help you free her." Anamaria ponders this interesting proposition. She can tell that John is serious, and she isn't sure what to say. "I'll give you a moment to think about it," he assures her breathlessly, "but there isn't much time to spare. They want to make an example out of you, having been gone for all this time. Your execution is scheduled for next week!"

"I don't need time," Anamaria tells him. "I will go with you." John's elation is visible all over his face, and Anamaria cringes inside to think of how she might hurt him.

"I will free your mother then and be back for you tonight!" John squeezes her hands lovingly and rushes off, leaving Anamaria alone with her thoughts. _What a strange turn of events, _she thinks, thankful for John's earnest nature but wondering if he would be able to really save her mother from slavery the way her mother saved her.

She doesn't need to worry long, because as promised, John and Nayla arrive just after dark. A glowing candle marks their progress through the passageway that leads to Anamaria's cell; the light wavers in the dark, a beacon of an uncertain future. John swiftly unlocks the gate keeping Anamaria a prisoner and she springs from the cell.

"Mama!" Anamaria cries and embraces her mother warmly, clinging to her as if this meeting could be their last.

"Anamaria, Anamaria," Nayla repeats, and the two hold each other. John gives them privacy, but time is of the essence and they cannot delay their departure.

"I've secured for us a small vessel to leave the island," he interrupts quietly, apologetically breaking up the reunion. "We need to hurry though. I'm afraid they will be after us. They were unwilling to sell Nayla, so I had to sneak her out on my own." Nayla glances gratefully at John.

"He is a good man," she whispers to her daughter, and Anamaria nods.

"Thank you, John," Anamaria says, and he blushes deeply as he leads the women stealthily out of the prison, past the dozing guard, and to the docks where he has tied a small boat. The three of them squeeze in together and begin to sail silently out of the harbor. Anamaria and Nayla clutch each other's hands tightly, as if afraid that if they let go they could be separated for another decade.

After days of excruciating suspense, being battered and pounded by the violent sea, they arrive at the island of Grenada. Nayla is silently thankful. Their small ship pulls up at a private dock and John helps Anamaria and her mother out of the boat, leading them up a well-worn path that connects the sea with his cousin's house. Their eyes widen as they take in the sprawling manor and the sculpted gardens.

"My cousin worked for the King," John explains, attempting to clarify wealth like this, but he inadvertently sets off alarm signals for the escaped slaves.

"What? Are you daft? How could you take us here?" Anamaria explodes as her mother tries to quiet her. Anamaria's concern about someone loyal to the King turning them in is legitimate; family ties sometimes meant nothing when harboring a fugitive was concerned, and she technically had been a prisoner of the Crown.

Anamaria has nothing to be worried about, however. John's cousin has strong anti-slavery sentiments despite his residence on Grenada, and he welcomes her and Nayla into his home. His wife is just as doting and is immediately set on marrying John and Anamaria, a thought that intimidates the young woman but seems to please the man. He asks for her hand, and though she thinks of him dearly, she isn't sure that she wants to be married to _anyone_.

Weeks pass without Anamaria giving John an answer, and he patiently waits for her to accept him into her life. Every few days, she goes into town in a fancy dress and wanders among the markets as she used to at Tortuga. One day, though, in her quest for a gift for John's family, she finds something she could have never expected.

As she walks, she sees a one-armed man haggling over the cost of meat in the market. Barely noticing his loss of a limb, she continues on her way until she hears his voice, and the recognition causes her to double back immediately.

"Stubbs?" she asks tentatively, wondering if it could really be him.

"Aye? Who be askin'?" he replies, not even turning around. She pulls on his good arm until he faces her and she lowers her parasol. "No… Anamaria?" Stubbs is shocked to see his old friend, especially in a dress. "Ye look… ye look… lovely, lass," he says, practically speechless.

Anamaria rolls her eyes. "Shut yer yam, Stubbs. It's me!" They warmly embrace and move to the Tellner Pub to continue discussing how Captain Mann is and how the ship has fared since she left them. She explains what had happened with her boat and Jack Sparrow, and Stubbs teases her about trusting the man. The two old friends chat warmly, seeming to any outsider an odd pair but obviously a close one.

"Listen, lass. I don't have any more time to chat. We sail at dawn and I have to be getting' back to the ship," Stubbs tells her. They say their goodbyes, and Anamaria is reluctant to see him go. After a moment, she realizes why.

"Stubbs!" Anamaria runs out of the pub after the pirate, crashing into Mrs. Berne on her way out. "I'm so sorry," she tells the woman who had taken such good care of her and her mother.

"Oh, Anamaria. I was just looking for you." The older woman is clearly confused, wondering why Anamaria looks so upset. Stubbs is turned around as well, curious as to what Anamaria wanted. Caught between these two people, one from her past and one who could be a part of her future, Anamaria feels torn, but she knows what she has to do.

"Tell John I'm sorry," she calls out behind her as she turns towards the freedom she cannot live without. The lure of the open ocean is irresistible, and as much as she thinks about civilizing herself and becoming someone's wife, she knows she would never be happy in that role. Stubbs smiles at the thought of having the woman back aboard _The Victoria, _and the two head towards the docks together, the one-armed pirate clearly clashing with the woman's elegant clothing and looking very out of place.

Upon Anamaria's arrival on the ship, she is welcomed back by the crew, some of whom she recognizes and other faces that are entirely new. Captain Mann is thrilled to have the woman back aboard and he wastes no time in showing her his appreciation. Pirate garb is obtained for her to wear and Anamaria sheds the dress immediately, changing into attire that suits both her profession and her personality. Once comfortable, she sits down at the captain's desk and begins a very important letter, thankful that she spent some of her years on _The Victoria_ reluctantly allowing the captain to teach her how to write.

Dear John,

I write this to you with the knowledge that I have wronged you, and for that I will forever be sorry. What you wished from me was not mine to give; my heart always has and always will belong to the sea. I am eternally grateful to you for saving both my life and my mother's, and I hope you will take care of her. She will understand why I had to leave, but I fear that you will not. Please know that were I able to love you the way you deserve, I would have stayed.

Anamaria

Dispatching the letter immediately, Anamaria turns and breathes deeply, inhaling the salty air, ready to set sail and meet whatever life might bring. Without even a backwards glance, she steps up to the wheel, savoring the feel of the polished wood against her fingertips. Anamaria is home, and as the captain bellows orders, she begins to steer the ship towards her future.


End file.
